Page 40 of All's Well that Friends Well

I want to melt into the floor and then all the way down into the core of the earth, where I will meld with whatever lava is down there and think long and hard about my actions.

But I’m happy to take what he feels comfortable giving. So I nod tentatively. “In that case…I heard there’s a breakfast on Sunday. At my parents’ house. Can I come?”

“It’s a work event. You should come,” he says briskly.

I hesitate, debating if I should go on.

But Luca can clearly tell. “Just say it,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Ask whatever you want to ask.”

I clear my throat, and my voice is small when I speak again. “It might be inappropriate now, given the conversation we just had.”

“Say it,” he repeats, waving his hand at me.

“I was going to bring you some breakfast bars onSaturday evening,” I admit. “And them let them chill overnight at your place for the breakfast Sunday morning.”

Luca snorts again and drops into his desk chair.

“I don’t have to!” I say quickly, waving my hands. “I really really don’t have to! I can chill them in my own fridge!”

His eyes roam critically over me for a second. Then he asks, “What flavor?”

I swallow. “Peach,” I say.

“Are they like that crumble you made?” he says after a second of silence. His eyes are now lingering on a spot just over my head, and he seems to be having some sort of internal debate.

“I…guess? A little, yeah,” I say with a shrug, my brows furrowing in confusion.

He clears his throat and meets my gaze just briefly before speaking. “That’s fine, then. Drop them off Saturday evening.”

I blink at him. “Really?”

“I said it was fine, didn’t I?” He turns his attention to the folders on his desk, clearing his throat again. Then he begins shuffling through papers, and he only says one more thing: “Now go clean up. You’re crying.” He pauses, his brow furrowing as he glances up at me. “You look like a raccoon.”

JULIET

By the timelunchtime rolls around, I’ve played my conversation with Luca over and over and over again, swirling around my brain until I don’t even know which way is up.

I’m a stalker. I’ve been stalking Luca Slater. Who even does that? Who develops a crush on a handsome man and ends up stalking him?

Me. That’s who.

I let out a noise of disgust at myself and blink hard to make my eyes stop stinging.

It’s just—I feel sobad. And so stupid and ashamed that I didn’t realize what I was doing, even though he’s been trying to tell me.

I can’t even complain about Quincey, who’s still a little uncomfortable to be around, because it feels like he’s always watching me. But at least Quincey isn’t breaking into my house. He’s not obsessively baking me desserts.

I glance around the storage room, which is where I’ve been eating lunch every day. There was only a bucket to sit on Monday, but two folding chairs had appeared out of nowhere by Tuesday morning, thank goodness. I’ve more or less gotten into the swing of things here—and by that I mean I’m going about my business with minimal interactions, because everyone seems to prefer that arrangement. My janitorial coworkers talk incessantly with each other, laughing and smiling, but they don’t seem interested in chatting with me. I don’t see Marianne from high school again, either.

I just work as hard as I can, by myself, until my body aches.

The aches and pains and sheer exhaustion are currently helping me keep my mind off of Luca.

I’m trying to get you to fall in love with me.

“Juliet,” I groan, hitting myself in the forehead with one hand as I reach for my food with the other. “Howcouldyou?”

Although I heard that casual wear is allowed on Fridays, I dressed normally this morning. I figure I don’t actually work in the office, and I prefer my cute work clothes anyway. So although everyone else is in jeans, it’s a pair of fitted black pants that gets covered in crumbs when I unwrap the slice of banana bread I brought as part of my lunch. I brush the crumbs impatiently away and look down at my food.

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